Stuck

Did you ever just have one of "those" days?

Kame seems to have a penchant for hiding. And sometimes, getting into his favorite hiding spots proves challenging. Sometimes, he even gets stuck, while seeking a place of safety and refuge.
On this particular day, I had to rescue my little friend from where he was wedged between a laundry basket and the mini-fridge that was in our bedroom. The silly turtle was determined to get into that dark space and explore, but his shell just wouldn't let him fit.

I get stuck at times, too, especially when I'm determined to hide from the world. I spend hours, even days, sitting at my computer, cloistered in my little corner of my bedroom where I've set myself up with a makeshift office. Not long ago, I was well and thoroughly stuck. The loss of a marriage is a grieving process, one that I have been reluctant to share, here or anywhere else. I've felt a strong need to prove myself worthy and strong, to prove to my ex-husband and to everyone else that I don't "need" him, or any man in my life to be a complete person. The women in my family have a habit of holding on to unhealthy relationships. I am determined that my children will not pay for my mistakes.

Reading back through unposted drafts, I came across one I wrote soon after Ken made his departure official:

 

"This is the last picture I painted for Ken. I had been painting a picture for Christmas every so often. I had other paintings planned, but then life changed.

Since he left, I haven't picked up a paintbrush. In fact, I haven't written much... As evidenced by my neglect of this blog. I have been taking a day at a time, focusing on work and school and just getting through each day. By most counts... I'm doing pretty well."

 ~*~*~

"Doing pretty well" was a lie and I knew it... That's why this post went into the archives until now, along with the penciled outlines of the other paintings I had begun, tucked away in a folder. I didn't want to see them. I didn't want to write, I didn't want to paint, I didn't want to talk to anyone or do anything. I was stuck. I was hiding. I was in too much pain to do anything more than get through each day.

When a marriage breaks, it's like any injury the body sustains. A broken bone doesn't heal immediately. The sudden, shocking pain doesn't last, but the lingering ache does, even after the bone is set and in a cast. The healing process can't, and shouldn't be, rushed. Rest and care are necessary. Protection of the healing wound is critical. You don't break a leg, and go out and run a marathon the next day.

Lately, I've been wondering if I should be dating, or at least seeking out friendships with men. I miss the companionship of having someone to go out to dinner with, or to see a movie with. I miss the friendship and camaraderie that came with being married. I know that my ex hoped we could remain friends, but the betrayal was too deep. I am too angry, and too deeply hurt to see him as a friend. Perhaps, in time, we might achieve a lukewarm affection, but I doubt I will ever trust him enough again to call him a friend.

I even went so far as to join a Christian online dating club, taking the free trial membership to see if there might be someone out there like me, lonely, but not anxious to dive into another serious relationship, but I never made it out of the glancing-at-pictures from behind the safety of a free membership stage. The free membership doesn't allow for communication, so it's difficult to actually "meet" anyone without paying the monthly fee, a step that would bring the vulnerability of exposure I just don't feel ready for.

I know that, sometime soon, it will be time for the cast to come off. Healing is a balancing act. Left unused and protected for too long, the limb begins to atrophy. Once the bone heals, the cast needs to come off so that the work of rebuilding lost muscle can begin. I'm often frustrated in this stage of my life. Like an itchy cast, the protective shell I've built around my heart can be galling at times. I want to be out there, running in the sunshine, meeting someone new, taking new risks and building a new life... but I'm not ready.

I'm no longer stuck. I'm healing. I'm not ready, yet, to get up off the couch and come out into the sun, but I know that spring is coming and, like Kame, I will come out of hibernation, in time.



Until next time...
~Mary

~*~*~

 “And I felt like my heart had been so thoroughly and irreparably broken that there could be no real joy again, that at best there might eventually be a little contentment. Everyone wanted me to get help and rejoin life, pick up the pieces and move on, and I tried to, I wanted to, but I just had to lie in the mud with my arms wrapped around myself, eyes closed, grieving, until I didn’t have to anymore.”
-Anne Lamott (Operating Instructions: A Journal of my Son's First Year)

The LORD is my light and my salvation; Whom shall I fear? The LORD is the defense of my life; Whom shall I dread?
-Psalm 27: 1

Of Love and Loss and Moving On

My notes in church are often less.... lyrical, than you might think.

 Kame has once again slipped into hibernation mode. His torpor means that he disappears for days at a time, emerging only occasionally to explore the offerings of fresh raspberries and take a short dip in his bathing tub, before disappearing beneath the mulch once again. He deals with winter by avoiding it entirely, passing it half-asleep and hidden.

Not for the first time, I find myself envying my shelled friend's ability to sleep through the less pleasant months of the season. I, too, have been hibernating, in a way. I've been avoiding speaking out about many of the emotions rolling through my days as I move forward, because so many of them have to do with other people, and I have vowed that this blog will be about my own life, and not a clearinghouse of gossip about others.
It might not be possible for me to blog without mentioning what's going on in my ex's world, or in my children's, but I'm trying not to air anyone's laundry but my own.

So much has happened since I last wrote. October brought with it a shocking blow with the loss of a very old and dear friend. Laura Kim Eisele Curtis was one of the best friends I've had. She put up with my ramblings, my oddities, my failures and my quirks. She made me laugh. She made me less ashamed of my PTSD symptoms and helped me see it as a condition to be managed, rather than a weakness. She stood beside me as I walked through some of the most difficult times in my life, and she allowed me to be a part of her life as she dealt with her own losses, blows and failures. Her passing was devastating, and a loss to the world, though most will never know what they missed by not knowing her.

My beautiful friend Laura, with her dad, Don, being a goof in the background. She had a quirky sense of humor that she came by honestly.

There are many things that Laura shared with me that I will take to my grave, but I can tell you a few things about my dear friend. She was a great singer and an amazing mom. I will forever hear her voice singing "You Are My Sunshine" to her daughter over the phone at bed time on the occasions she stayed at my home. There is surely no sound more beautiful in the world. She was a good friend. I can't count the times she listened to me and let me run on. She gave me good advice. She was the one who encouraged *cough*dragged*cough* me into seeking out a college degree. She has been my friend, my support, and my confidant for well over ten years... and now she's gone. Just like that, in one dark night, she left this world and traveled beyond the veil.
And even now, she is with me.

I could hear her beside me, snickering, at her final service, as the Pastor's voice rose in song. He had a lovely voice, but Laura often attended my son's guitar lessons with me, and we had sat, barely containing school-girl giggles, through many voice-student's renditions of "New York, New York". Since her parents live near the Big City, and my favorite fictional heroes are rumored to occupy its sewer system, the song made us giggle all the more. I could feel her arms around my shoulders, even as I cried. I could hear her voice in my dreams, in the wretched days after her passing, laughing and exclaiming, "but Mary, I'm here with MacKenzie! I'm dancing... I don't hurt anymore..."

Her baby daughter who succumbed to SIDS was waiting for her, I know. And although she has left two other beautiful young women behind, I know the joy of that reunion will be complete when we all come together in Eternity's time. Laura knows no grief now, no pain. She has stepped out of time, and into the place where there are no more tears, no more sorrows. It is only those of us who are left behind who grieve for the parting. I could feel her presence again, more faintly, when I achieved my first college degree. I could hear her voice, quietly telling me "I'm proud of you, Friend. You did it."

Laura has moved on, and although I was not ready, could never be ready, to lose my friend, I know that this parting is a part of life. Death's pain is the echo of the separation Man took from God in the Garden, and it is eased by the knowledge that the gap has been closed by His son, that this world is healing. Death is a scar in the eternal tapestry, nothing more.

And now, it is time for me to move on, to move forward in my own life. I can not hold on to the hurts and worries and grief of the past year. I can not hold on to the man who was once my husband, or allow his choices to guide my emotions any longer. I must come to a place where I can see him building a new life of his own, and be able to smile and wish him well. I have not yet reached that place. I don't know how long it will take, but I do know that the only way for healing to begin is to remove the splinter of bitterness and anger.

A painting from my college Illustration class, with a quote that I hope, will define the new year.

Someone very wise once said that revenge is like a splinter. It festers and poisons the mind. The only way to heal is to let it go.

The river is moving on... and I must step into it once again, and find a new way.

-Mary
~*~*~

"Hope
Smiles from the threshold of the year to come,
Whispering, "It will be happier..." - Alfred Tennyson

Am I an Idiot?

Wow. Just ... wow. I didn't realize just how grumpy I've been lately until today, when I got into an argument on Facebook with a mouse.
Yeah... I know how crazy that sounds.... Let's just say that role-players are interesting people.

But I digress. My mood has been horrid lately, even though life, in general, has been good. We've had our ups and downs... but when do we not?

Our daughter is struggling to finish her first year of high school. Our son is having some trouble with homeschooling- the curriculum we began the year with is not working, at all, and we need to change our approach radically.

I can see that I will be strongly challenged next year, to keep him interested and consistent in his work. This year, I've allowed my instincts to direct us, allowing him perhaps too much leeway, but giving him the room he needs to heal and mature past his frustrations from the past couple of years.

This week, I was offered an opportunity to work on retainer for a client, a big step for a freelance writer. This... is good news. A regular paycheck is a positive move for me, giving me the independence and freedom I need, as well as the means to better support us and to perhaps begin building a savings account. So, why am I so grumpy?

I wish I knew. I have several theories. A lack of sleep. The nightmares that plague me. The feeling of being slowly buried under an avalanche as I try to dig myself out with a spoon. College, work, home-school... all with the deadening pressure of uncertainty, is crushing me.
I'm tired of feeling this way. I'm tired of feeling as if there's a hole in my life, a missing piece. I'm tired of feeling alone, even though I'm surrounded by family and friends who have been my rock throughout these past two years of turmoil.

Do these feelings mean it's time for me to make a decision? Do they mean I should move forward? Does this mean I should end my marriage?

I wish I knew. I have said, in the past, that I will not be the one to file for divorce. I have said that I will not be the one to walk away. I will not be the one to destroy us... to take that final step. I pray that I am doing the right thing. I felt, when this started happening, that God was asking me to stand firm, to keep my place, no matter what my husband chooses. I have not felt as if that has changed.

Recently, I read a book a friend has written. I read as a copy-editor, to help her prepare the final manuscript for publication. As I searched the text for misspellings, inconsistencies and typos, I found more in the pages than excellent writing. I found truth. I found advice that I wish I'd received years ago. I found truth, hope and humor from someone who has "been there and done that". I found more insight into what is "off" in my marriage that I have never before been able to put my finger on... and I found reminders about personal responsibility, accountability, loyalty and commitment. I found strength to carry on a bit longer, in hopes that God might use this particular "idiot" to His glory.

I don't know where this journey will end. I do know that I chose the more difficult path, when I made the decision to stay in my marriage. I know that it's possible I'm being stubborn, even pig-headed, about this decision. I know that by staying I am relinquishing "what might be". But... I made a promise, and it is one I intend to keep.

No matter where this road leads us, Elaine Miller's book, We All Married Idiots, has become a part of the journey I'll cherish.

Dream sweet, friends. Dreams are powerful things, the stuff hope is made of.
-Mary

~*~*~

"Make your choice, adventurous Stranger;
Strike the bell and bide the danger,
Or wonder, till it drives you mad,
What would have followed if you had."

~c.s. Lewis, The Magician's Nephew

Giving thanks in the rain

Kame and I have a new friend. Her name is CreamsiclePumpkinPiePancakes. Pumpkin for short.

Kame isn't sure what to make of this orange-and-white tornado who has invaded his space. She climbs on his enclosure, watching as he eats, reaches through the panels to swat at him, and generally makes a nuisance of herself. The poor turtle can't even enjoy his bathing pool. She watches too cannily as he climbs up to the end, slides down his plastic ramp into the water, and climbs up to bask on the rocks. Although Pumpkin weighs little more than Kame himself, she makes him nervous and uncomfortable. He and I are a lot alike. Neither of us are fond of change.

Changes, however, are a part of life.

"Without change, there would be no butterflies."

It's the day before Thanksgiving as I write this. Ken got up this morning, fixed me breakfast, and went off to work... We spent a quiet morning together, talking about the plans for the holiday, like normal people do. We were civil and affectionate, carefully acting like everything wasn't falling apart. Like we're not quietly dismantling everything we've spent sixteen years building. Like we're not planning to divorce. Someone looking at our quiet little scene would've thought we were just another happily married couple... And once upon a time, we were.

I used to love holidays... These quiet mornings when I felt closest to my husband. When we spent time planning for spending time with the family, looking forward to relaxing and laughing together, good food and good times...
Those things are not going to go away when things change for us, but there is a sense of profound loss all the same. The holidays will still be a time of love and laughter and smiles. I believe that on my good days. But with the change looming large in front of us, moving quietly through the undercurrents of our family like a fault opening up under a neighborhood, preparing to collapse and swallow it whole... Change does not look to me like a positive thing.

I know it will be. I know, when little resentments rise up, and are quieted by knowing this state of flux is temporary, when I look toward a future in which we can be friends, and we can each live our lives without expectations, without suspicion and resentment and hurt, I know that the changes are necessary and good for our family. I know our kids will understand, one day. I know that this will get better, that it will be better.

It's raining out today. It's cold and wet and threatening to turn into sleet, sticking to the road and making everything treacherous. Soon there will be snow falling, thick and heavy and cold. I know these things must come, as they do in their season. I know also that Spring will come, in its time. With the rain falling cold and slick outside, the sun is only behind the clouds, and it will return to warm us again.

I know that the changes coming will be difficult. I know there will be tears raining, hurt feelings and cold... I know the kids won't understand, at least not at first. I know there will be pain, and I dread it. If I could live forever in this limbo, this disconnect between what is real and what they believe, and keep them happily cocooned forever, I would. I would sacrifice my own soul, bleed out a drop at a time, anything, to spare them the pain that change will bring...

But I know that butterflies left in a cocoon wither and die. I know that they must break free, they must spread their wings, they must fly. Even the struggle is a necessary part of the butterfly's emerging. If the cocoon is cut open, and they are freed too soon, the insect will perish. The fight to escape the cocoon forces the fluids in the creature's body into its wings, expanding and growing them, stretching them out to dry in the sun... until it is ready to relinquish the cocoon, and fly.

Knowing all this... I will do all I can to make this transition easier for them. I will forgive and heal and allow myself to maintain the love I had for the man who is their father. I will fight back against bitterness and anger. I will not justify wrongs, but neither will I carry the weight of grudges. For their sake, I will do what I can to be kind, to be strong, to be faithful to my God and my family, even when I feel like throwing myself down and having a colossal tantrum at the unfairness of it all. I will choose to give thanks, even now, in the rain, and I will remember the words of a very wise Sensei:

"Change is good."

~Hamato Splinter

~*~*~

New horizons

It seems, lately, as if all I've written about has been sadness and reflection. I've been in that place of going along, watching the ground in front of my feet, for so long, I haven't looked up in quite a while.... And there are so many beautiful things to see.

This week, Kame is at home with a friend coming in to be sure his dish is always filled with fresh greens and berries and a bit of egg, all his favorite foods. I am on our yearly camping trip with the family, taking a moment to breathe... and a moment to look back upon where we've been... and forward to where we are going.

The healing process, it seems, is a slow one. Each time I feel as if I've come to a place where a certain name will never cross my mind again, something reminds me and takes me back to that earth-shattering phone call, and the sick, lost feeling of dreaming you're falling and never hitting the bottom. I remember the betrayal, and I am angry all over again.

Those moments are painful for my husband as well. Just when he thinks we've gotten past all that, when he thinks it might be safe to move forward, to grasp the happiness we once shared, I turn on him. Oh, I don't shout or rant or bring it up and pick a fight... It can be something as little as a look, a turning away, a frown, but he knows, almost always, what's in my mind. I hate the flash of regret for what should not have been. I hate the hurt and what I fear will soon turn to resentment if we cannot resolve this rift between us.

I hate knowing my churned up emotions are the cause, when the scab is torn off yet again and we are left to bleed, each in our own ways. Regardless of who inflicted the wound in the first place, we must work together to heal it. If trust can't be rebuilt in a marriage, what will be left? I fear some days that we will end as very good friends... but nothing more. When I think of what is at stake... I can not stomach the thought.


My fears, though, are fading, slowly, painfully. This week, we've been out kayaking...
























And having fun together...


And hanging around the campfire, watching bats flit overhead. (by the way, we got the funky colors by tossing in a couple packets of stuff they sell at the camp store.)


Yet, I found myself acting out of jealousy and insecurity, pushing myself too hard physically to keep up with the activities my family wanted to engage in, pushing myself emotionally to be "upbeat" and social, unconsciously pushing my husband away and withdrawing when I felt he wasn't paying enough attention to me. In short, I found myself sabotaging what I needed most: A few days of simple interaction with my family.

For several months now, I have been working long hours, trying to establish myself as a freelance writer and editor. I've been throwing myself into this job... and trying at the same time to avoid neglecting my family and friends. I've been trying to succeed without losing that vital part of myself that makes me who I am. It hasn't been easy. There has been frustration and resentment on all sides as my family adjusts to Mom working. I had hoped this week away would help re-cement my commitment to my family; to show them that I am still available to them, and have not been swallowed up in chasing my long-held dream of finishing college and writing full time.

The extra work has made my life more stressful than before, and, I'm learning, makes it more difficult to stay connected, to stay in the moment, to work at a marriage that still needs attention and nurturing if it is to survive.

This week away has taught me that if we are to rebuild what is broken, we will have to recommit every single day, to remember what it is, exactly, that we're fighting for. We will need to go through these moments, the happy and the painful ones, and we will have to learn to set aside our day to day rush sometimes, and just be.

There is hope. It burns bright, just beyond the bend. All we can do is keep walking, keep striving, keep working together every single day. It's the only way to win the quest, to live the adventure, to find our own happy ending.

Rejoicing in the day,
-Mary

~*~*~

"I love you because you
Are helping me to make
Of the lumber of my life
Not a tavern
But a temple;
Out of the works
Of my every day
Not a reproach
But a song."

-Roy Croft

“Do you want me to tell you something really subversive? Love is everything it's cracked up to be. That's why people are so cynical about it. It really is worth fighting for, being brave for, risking everything for. And the trouble is, if you don't risk anything, you risk even more.”

-Erica Jong

Going on

Kame seems determined to explore the wider world beyond his enclosure. He's not content with the confines, knowing there is more, somewhere, if he could just get free.

I wonder, sometimes, just what it is he's searching for, if he's looking for something he remembers deep in the recesses of his turtle brain. I wonder if he recalls that there's green grass and juicy slugs outdoors, where I've taken him on warm summer days, and he's trying to get back to that turtle paradise. I wonder if even he really knows what it is he's searching for.

Some days I find his antics amusing... and others, I know exactly how he feels.

As much as Kame enjoys his little excursions, either in the yard or just around my office, he's always grateful to return to his home. We have a lot in common, he and I. Most of the time, like me, I think he's happiest in his safe, familiar surroundings.

Still, all of us, now and then, need an adventure. All of us need a chance to get outside ourselves and see what lies beyond our door step. All of us need a chance to explore... all of us need a chance to grow. I think we all have that need to see what's beyond our own front doors.

This morning I wrote an note to a friend who I am no longer in contact with. I wrote it, read it over, and decided not to send it... because the person has moved on and there is no point in going back over paths already traveled. Re-reading, I realized I really had nothing to say, because what I'm searching for isn't in the past. To find where I'm going, the only way to travel is forward.

Life is like that sometimes. Things change. People grow... and sometimes they leave. Sometimes it's painful... Sometimes it feels as if you weren't ready to move on.

In three week's time, I will be returning to Montrose Christian Writer's Conference in Montrose, PA. It is a glorious week of writing, laughter, fellowship and learning, a week of recharging, of getting in touch with myself as a writer, a week of networking, of renewing old friendships and building new ones.

It is also a week full of memories...
My friend and mentor Shirley Brinkerhoff was an amazing woman. She left her mark on my heart, as she did, I think, on all who were privileged to know her. Her legacy lives on in a scholarship fund, and in a beautiful painting by another friend that hangs in the classroom she taught in.

Since her passing two years ago, I haven't been able to bring myself to take classes taught in that room. I may never be able to sit around the table again without hearing her laughter and seeing the sparkle of mischief in her eyes. She was contagious, and we never got through a class without fits of giggles.

Montrose is sacred ground for me. It was a life-changing experience, attending that first year, and I never come away the same as when I arrived. Every year there is something new to learn, something new to take away. These past few years, with so much turmoil in my life, it has been my sanctuary.

Last year, I didn't even attend the classes... I was emotionally injured, and in a good deal of pain last year when I went to Montrose. I was worried about things at home, I was confused and lost and sick at heart. Mostly I sat out on the porch, holding a friend's baby, and remembering happier times. I also went kayaking. It was, perhaps, not what conference is meant to be... but for me, it was good. It was healing. It was what I needed during a very dark and confusing time.

This year, I go back, changed again. I've had new experiences this year. I have new things to share... I hope I will make new connections and learn new concepts and ideas that will strengthen my writing. I am going this year, determined to attend classes and make connections and soak in all the professional wisdom available. I am less in need of the healing warmth, but no less grateful that it is there to embrace my heart.

This year, I am stronger. I have begun to heal. I will always, perhaps grieve for the past, but I have come far enough to be able to look toward a brighter future. I will go and sit in Shirley's room... it will always be Shirley's room to me... and I will remember her, hear her laughter, and smile.

Then, I will get up and go out into the conference and embrace and absorb everything God has in store for me this year.

"In three words, I can sum up everything I've learned about life: It goes on."
-Robert Frost.

Rejoicing in the day,
-Mary

~*~*~
"The term is over: the holidays have begun. The dream is ended: This is the morning"
And as he spoke, He no longer looked to them like a lion; but the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story, which no one on earth has read: which goes on forever; in which every chapter is better than the one before."

-c.s. Lewis, The Last Battle

To those who have gone before me on into Aslan's Country... happy reading, my friends.

Though I look forward to the great reunion one day, for now, I am content, knowing I am at the right place in the journey, and that it continues on, upward and onward, always.

Until we meet again, tsune ni oboete okimasu.

Changes

Kame is an intrepid soul. He seems to have decided the stairs are his Mt. Everest, and he's determined to defeat them... from above. My fear for my little friend's safety means I must deter him from making such a treacherous leap, but that doesn't mean he won't come back and try again and again. I fear if Kame ever does succeed in his attempts, he will suffer irreparable damage. A turtle's shell is a vital part of his skeletal structure. I must be diligent in keeping him in check, although I am sure he resents being returned to his safe abode.

In ten days I will begin my college career. To say that I am nervous would be perhaps the boldest understatement ever made.

Did I mention that I'll be working in a program that allows an individualized learning plan, a combination of traditional classroom, online courses and one-on-one tutoring in which I'm expected to design my own path to a degree? Oh, and by the way, next year Arek and I will be homeschooling. To top the mountain off with a beautiful snow-cap... Ken has accepted a job with Homeland Security as a State Fire Instructor, a job which adds 20 hours a month to his already hectic schedule.

Just to recap: College. Homeschooling. Second job.

It's quite a heavy load to lay on a marriage that has already cracked once. A lot of strain to put on the still-healing scars of the past. I haven't been sleeping well, thinking about the possibilities, and remembering. Remembering the long nights when Ken was volunteering more of his time to the Fire Department, the resentment as I fell into what felt like a single-mother role, the strain and the snapping at one another, the lack of communication, the ruts we fell into, undercutting one another, the anger that built up until it bubbled up through the fissures and very nearly broke us apart.

We broke under the pressure once, and... if I am honest with myself, I know it could happen again. I hope that we have learned something from our experience. I believe we have. We communicate better these days. I am far less quick to whip out my "Whatever.", a code-word for "Fine. Do what you want. I'll make do, but I won't like it." Ken is better at listening, and being honest about his own feelings as well.

I sometimes want to herd us away from the danger, to avoid challenges for fear we could fall. I want to protect what we're rebuilding. I want our marriage to work. It's easy and comfortable in our safe little place... and if we stayed here we'd stagnate.

Life moves forward, with or without our consent. We must go with it, or be swept away.

Rejoicing in the day,
-Mary

*~*~*

The Road goes ever on and on

Down from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone,

And I must follow, if I can,

Pursuing it with eager feet,

Until it joins some larger way

Where many paths and errands meet.

And whither then? I cannot say.

-The Hobbit, J.R. Tolkien

~*~*~

"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door,' he used to say. 'You step onto the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to.'"

-Fellowship of the Ring, J.R. Tolkien

Forgiveness

Slowly, slowly, Kame is waking up. He still needs to be dug out and shown his food, placed in his pan of water, reminded to eat and to drink, but he is more alert, more active, for short periods of time. As the days grow longer and the mercury in the thermometer begins to edge higher, he is remembering that winter does not last forever, and spring is coming. He is coming out of hibernation and remembering what it's like to be alive. He is awakening.

Sometimes I have felt as if the path we've been on would never end. An arctic wasteland seemed to stretch out in front of me as we struggled to piece our marriage, and our family back together. We were wandering through Narnia, where winter is eternal and Christmas never comes.

Then, one day, a flower broke through the snow. There was a moment, looking into my husband's eyes, that I saw him soften, saw the ice melt just a bit, saw the faint sparkle of the old humor, the understanding and acceptance, the fun. The first crack had taken hold, and the ice couldn't keep together.

I think that life is nothing more, and nothing less, than a series of choices. Over a year ago, I stood at a crossroads, and felt that the choice I made would direct the rest of my life. Since then, I've stood at many crossroads, and made many choices, each of which has sent my life, our lives, in new directions. No one choice has been irrevocable. No one decision has changed my life so much that I can't go back and choose another direction.

In a few weeks' time, I will begin college classes. Twenty years ago, I left college and never looked back. Now I am standing once more on the threshold of education, wondering where the springboard of a degree will take me. How high will I be able to jump? Will I finally reach my goals? I have grown and changed, but I have carried my dreams along with me like a satchel. Some things are just too precious to leave behind.

A year ago last Thanksgiving, I thought my marriage was ending. I believed we were destined to break apart like glass shattered on the rocks of betrayal and disappointment. I believed a part of my life was over, that the lightning strike had destroyed us.

Over a year later, the first cautious buds are emerging. New growth is appearing where only charred, smoking ruin lay frozen in the ice. The early flowers are poking brave tendrils up through the snow, putting on an occasional burst of color and fragrance, unafraid of the frost and the chill still in the air. Spring is approaching. Life is new. Forgiveness is settling on our shoulders like a comfortable blanket, warming the chill away and reminding us how good it is to stand in the sun, basking and warm.

Spring is coming, I can feel it, and it is good.

Rejoicing in the day,
-Mary

"Forgiveness comes after a long time. After a long and gentle rain of tears. The earth is soaked and the smell of springtime is in the air. New life will come."
..."I have forgiven today, which could not help but come. I have forgiven yesterday, which could not help but pass. I will forgive tomorrow, too."

-Walk Softly, Rachel, by Kate Banks

Loss

Kame isn't much bothered by being alone. He travels along, bound for wherever turtles believe the grass is greener, on the other side of the lawn in this case.

It was a rare warm late-fall day. Kame had explored several areas of the yard before taking off across the lawn as if he knew exactly where he was going and just how to get there.

For a moment, he paused, basking in the sun and seeming to contemplate his surroundings, to orient himself and decide just where to go next. I wonder if he felt alone, although I wasn't far away. I wonder, in that moment, whether he felt lost, or if he was just taking a moment to consider things.

We all suffer loss at some point in our lives. Some losses are great, and some are small, but when we are traveling through that grief, the worst feeling in the world is to feel alone, lost and forgotten in a big, wild world. If we are lucky, friends and family are close enough to offer comfort, but loss, at its heart, is a lonely emotion.
We must each learn to deal with it in our own way, often in the quiet, dark room after everyone has left us, when we lie down and hold a pillow tight, and let the tears fall.

Alfred Lord Tennyson wrote in his poem; In Memoriam:27, 1850:

I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.

The famous lines have become cliche, but do they still ring true? Is it better to love, to feel the depth of the joy and passion and longing, knowing... knowing it can be ripped away at any moment, whether by death or by circumstance or by the simple changing desires of the human heart?

That is a question I am still trying to answer. Even with the ongoing repairs and rebuilding of my marriage, there is loss, something precious that was broken in this process, something I do not know if we'll ever fully recover.
I sometimes find myself grieving for that first, untainted love, the knowledge that this man, this one, is the one I'm meant to spend the rest of my life with, knowing in five years, in ten, in twenty, barring tragedy, he will be at my side. As time goes on, I've come to realize that what I truly lost was a sense of security, of surety in our future. What I lost was never really mine to begin with.

Even a promise sealed with solemn vows, with good intentions and with an honorable spirit, can be broken. 'Til death do us part really means until I change my mind... until I fall in love with another... until I decide this commitment is too difficult, and I want something different... until one of us decides that what we have is no longer worth the pain and the struggle and we let go, trading in our first love for freedom, and a second chance at what we think we're missing out on.

There came a point in my marriage at which I had to make a choice; to stay or to go. At that time, I decided that no matter what happened, I would not be the one to leave. Making that decision was painful, because it meant accepting that I could not stop my husband from leaving, if he so chooses. My commitment does not bind him.

Though the pain and fear have been severe at times, this experience has taught me that sometimes letting go is the stronger choice. Sometimes not holding on is the real test of your commitment. Sometimes you have to let go of someone and let them be the one who chooses to stay. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do, but a promise given unasked is stronger than the one brought about by a demand. I feared his choice, but I knew I had to accept it. I took a chance, choosing to believe in the character of the man I married, choosing to believe he would stay. It turned out to be the right choice for us, and we are stronger for it.

There are miles to go before we sleep, but our steps are guided by a higher Hand, and I know we are moving in the right direction.

Rejoicing in the day,
-Mary

~*~*~

"I cried when I knew I'd lost you, afraid I had lost it all. Then I realized that losing you didn't have to mean I lost me."

Descending

Kame is resting this morning. He's more active since he's coming out of his semi-hibernation state. He eats when I offer him food, but does not yet come out looking for food on his own. He still needs my support.

I love my little friend, and I will take care of him, for as long as it takes, but I hope that sometime soon he will come out and rejoin the world once more.

This picture was taken last summer, while we were camping near the New York State Fire Academy, where Ken takes some of his classes. The stairs ascend into a gorge, where a waterfall tumbles into a peaceful pool. It is an amazing and beautiful place, and I hope we will return again when the days are lazy, long and warm.

This has been, as a friend wrote on my Facebook wall, a "craptastic" week. The details are unimportant, but the damage was devastating. The week began with a shower of pebble-sized irritants, but by Tuesday evening the roar crashed down, sweeping me off my feet and taking me by complete surprise. It was a full-blown landslide.

I spent most of Wednesday digging out from under the emotional debris, clinging to the lifelines of family and friends. Thursday I had re-emerged, dusty, injured, but alive. Friday was spent re-orienting to the unnatural feeling of standing in the sun, and beginning to think of the practicalities of rebuilding.

Devastation never lasts. It comes upon us, buries us with its tumbling, roaring noise, overwhelms us and sweeps us off our feet like a tornado laying waste. In the moment, it can seem as if the world has cracked apart, broken beyond repair, and that there will never be light or warmth again... But often, after the rumblings die down and things have settled, the sun comes out, shining with almost obscene cheer, reminding us that now the disaster is over and life, such as it is, must go on.

Standing in the sun, we are left with a choice. A tree is laying over our roof, the yard is littered with the debris the storm left behind. Injuries must be tended, unstable structures must be shored up, and the plans for recovery must begin. It all begins with a choice: Move on, and leave the devastation behind in hopes of building elsewhere, or take an honest assessment of the damage, make plans, gather resources and rebuild.

I have chosen, and will always choose, to rebuild. That's what you do in a family.

Rejoicing in the day,
-Mary
~*~*~
I think the only cure for the brokenness of this world is Truth. Use it carefully, and shine its light wherever you go.

Life is Messy

Sometimes, life is just messy. Like when Kame enjoys a fat, juicy blackberry. Especially when I've had a particularly difficult day (week... month...), and I comfort myself by cuddling with him. Especially when I don't much care what he does as long as he's happy... and eating a large, juicy blackberry is just about the happiest thing a turtle can do.

There's something good about the simple way Kame relishes his food, especially food that pops with juice as he bites into it. He seems to take delight in the squishy fruit, grabbing mouthfuls and biting down so that before long his entire beak is covered in sweet black juice. There is something innocent, something pure, in that kind of enjoyment.

Sometimes life gets messy too.
I quite often have higher expectations of people than they are able to live up to. People make mistakes. People fail. People let me down.
I have higher expectations of myself than I am able to live up to. I make mistakes. I fail. I let people I care about down.

The very nature of Man is flawed... we came from dust, and to dust we shall return. At the same time, we carry with in us the very breath of God... we are only jars of clay, but inside is a treasure so precious it cannot be bought at any price but had to be purchased with the blood of absolute innocence, the sacrifice of a Lamb. This is the greatest irony of life; the mixture of good and evil within Man, and the reason a certain song resonates with my soul: "The only thing that's good in me is Jesus."

This week my son, my precious, beautiful, clever and often wise-beyond-his-years son, had his usual array of moods, swinging from absolute joy and lighthearted fun to raging tempers to unshakable calm, sometimes within the space of an hour. The mood swings and companion behaviors have created a roller coaster... and all I could do was hold on and pray the safety bars held.
I expect that if my son cares about his family, he will control his behavior. When he does not control his behavior, I am exasperated, hurt, bewildered, angry, frustrated and grieved... all because I expect more from a ten year old boy than some adults are able to accomplish in a lifetime- self control.

In the midst of the turmoil with Arek, I got involved in an online game with acquaintances. It seemed like a fun way to exercise creativity, explore characterization and get to know people better who have interests similar to mine. It turned out to be a mistake. I expected people to feel the same way about my favorite fictional characters that I feel. I expected them to understand and know the individual characters intimately. I expected them to understand me, in a very short period of time, and to behave the way I thought they should. When my expectations weren't met, I was wounded, confused, and upset.

This week my expectations were the cause of unnecessary pain, for myself and my family and my friends. Some expectations are good and fair and reasonable... others, are not. Learning to discern between them is, perhaps, what our time on this earth is for.

Rejoicing in the day,
-Mary

~*~*~
"One of the most subtle burdens God ever puts on us as saints is this burden of discernment concerning other souls. He reveals things in order that we may take the burden of these souls before Him and form the mind of Christ about them. It is not that we bring God into touch with our minds, but that we rouse ourselves until God is able to convey His mind to us about the one for whom we intercede."

-Oswald Chambers

~~~
In other words... We do not pray for others' benefit. We pray so that we might learn what God wants us to learn regarding others, and how we might go about showing them compassion.
I have so much to learn.
-Mary

Hero

First, I must say, this is not a picture of Kame. (In case you were wondering) It was a drawing commissioned by a dear friend, and drawn by a cartoonist I know through a website called Deviant Art. You can find more of her fantastic artwork here.

The picture is titled "Blushing", and it's an illustration from my own fan-fiction story titled "Anger Management". It illustrates a joke between friends "You know, you're cute when you're blushing.", and represents the idea of an Author meeting her hero.

Hamato Leonardo (In Japanese families, the surname comes first), the mutant Turtle from the illustration, is the leader of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, a familiar title to those who grew up in the '80's and early 2000's. Far from the goofy pizza-munching comic relief of the original series, later episodes and the fourth TMNT movie portrayed Leo as a driven, skilled and strong leader, with a singular focus: Protect and lead his family.

Leo has been a hero of mine for a long time. I told my husband once that he has "nothing to worry about" because his only real competition for my affection is a fictional mutant. Although I was joking at the time, the truth is, Leo does represent much of what I love in Ken, and is deeply intertwined with my commitment to my marriage. My fictional hero serves as a fantasy to retreat to when life is difficult, but he's more than that. He's also a strong reminder of what's most important to me, and the reasons I fight against all odds to protect what I hold dear.

Confidence and optimism mark the Turtles' lives. No matter what happens, they believe in themselves and each other. They take responsibility for themselves and for one another. They are brothers. Singly, they wouldn't last a week in a hostile and often dangerous world. Together, they can face any threat.

My dream for my family is not so different from the Turtles' lives. We may never face alien invasions or psychotic government agents, but we do battle against doubt, against the every-day assaults of the deficiencies, real and perceived, in ourselves and in our lives. We worry about bills (I don't know a couple who doesn't), about our kids, about the future. We fight against despair, against the encroaching fear that our children will not live up to their potential, that we will fail them in some fundamental way. We worry that we will go hungry and homeless in our old age. We worry that we might not live up to our own fullest potential.

For me, that means I worry that I may never publish a book. I may never achieve that pinnacle of success, that goal I've set for myself. Born to climb, I may never reach the top of the mountain. For Ken, it means he may never find paid employment in the fire service. Discouragement looms large when you've poured so much in, and received so little in return.

The truth is, there are no guarantees in this life. Children grow up to disappoint their parents. Parents pass away without ever making it clear to their children how very much they were loved. Effort goes unappreciated. Dreams go unfulfilled, goals unmet, people feel unloved. Sometimes marriages and even whole families fall apart under the stress of every-day disappointments.

In cartoons and movies, when things look bleak, it's the hero's time to shine. Leonardo and his brothers have faced defeat more times than I care to count, and yet they return, time and time again, to face new enemies, new threats, new catastrophes. What makes a hero keep getting up and going on, time and time again? Where does he find the determination to never give up, the courage in the face of adversity?

I have come to believe that it is not the ability to hold up under pressure that makes a hero. It's not courage or a strong character that makes one heroic, though those things certainly help.

Every single day, we get up and go about our routine. Every single day we are faced with choices, decisions that must be made. I believe that it is in these choices, each singular decision, that heroes are born. While the spotlight often shines on the heroes who defeat the bad guys with some brilliant inspiration of strategy in battle, the strength to make those decisions comes from long exercise of daily choices.

My husband has been facing a difficult time recently. Losing over 100 pounds is not an easy task, and yet he had to, to protect his health. The specter of re-gaining the weight looms large. He has faced down discouragement and defeat... and yet he is in the process of climbing to his feet, to face the giants once more.

He's made mistakes. He's been knocked down, he's stumbled, and there have been times when he feels there's no more strength to get up again. Still, no matter how many times he's defeated, he refuses to give up.

He is, and has always been, my personal hero.

~*~*~

contentment

A turtle in his natural environment....
A cat's scratching tower.

Kame seems confused at times. While my cats studiously ignore their scratching post, he regularly makes himself at home in the little cave formed by the carpeted base, burrowing into the bedding as if he believes he deserves whiskers and fur. In a foreign land, he has made himself at home.

At times, marriage feels like a foreign place to me. I am, by nature, a loner. If I am subjected to constant company, even of those I love, for too long, I become crabby and stand-offish. Time alone is not only natural for me, it's necessary to my mental health. So why is it that, when I'm alone, I long for my family's company? Why do I miss my husband when he goes away, knowing he will return soon? Why do I seem to always be wanting something other than what I have? Why do human beings struggle with the simple concept of contentment?

I believe that this world was created with a purpose. I believe that there was a grand design, a vision for Creation... and that somewhere early on, things went astray.

I believe that what we are searching for is the ideal, the perfection, the place where all the pieces align and everything falls into place.

I believe, if I don't give up, that my marriage will continue to grow, to heal, and to move in the direction of the ideal. I believe the plan is still in place, and that the world is still moving onward and upward. I believe... And so I will hold on.

Rejoicing in the day,
-Mary

Anniversery

I haven't opened with a little anecdote or comment about Kame this morning. Some wounds are just too deep to patch with a metaphor, and too painful to make light of or draw into perspective... yet.

A year ago, my husband traveled to Los Vegas without me, ostensibly to attend a friend's wedding. He went alone, or so I thought, until I got The Call, from an old girlfriend's husband. "Did you know...?" No, I didn't.

A year later, I find myself searching for perspective in the whirling chaos that phone call left behind, and falling short.

Robert Frost wrote:

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

***

The Call was the culmination of everything that had led up to that point. We'd been dancing around each other, with bitterness and resentment creeping in but unwilling to face things head on for so long it felt like we were two nations in a cold war, playing at peace while bolstering our defenses and building secret stockpiles of ammunition. Vegas felt like the first salvo in what could become an all-out war, depending on how I responded.

It was two days before Thanksgiving, and I was in a frozen wilderness, the accusation and my husband's confessions ("yes, he saw her there") and denials ("nothing happened") sounding in my ears, staring down two paths, one marked "Stay", the other marked "Go."

Which would I choose? Both looked difficult. Jagged rocks protruded, threatening destruction. "Go" was a downhill slide, filled with hidden dark pits of Loneliness and Desolation. War would be inevitable, fighting over custody, support... I hated the thought of what we once had changing into something twisted, of looking into a once-loved face and seeing only frozen resentment looking back.
I knew, from walking with friends as they traversed the path, that it could lead to smoother land, perhaps a whole new adventure, but the way was treacherous and fraught with dangers, and I would walk it alone, holding only my childrens' hands.

"Stay" appeared smoother, but I'd been injured on that path, betrayed by the one who should have been at my side, loyal through life's journey. Staying meant believing his regret was sincere, believing he was telling the truth, though at the time I had my doubts. It meant taking the chance that we would fall back into our cold-war patterns, that history would simply repeat itself and that battle was inevitable whether I wanted it or not.

I stood at the fork in the road, undecided, frightened, in pain so deep I thought I'd never find my way out again, and despaired.

Frost chose his path:

Then took the other, as just as fair
And perhaps having the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.

***
The two paths... Rather than choose, I ran away, fled to a friend's house, a temporary sanctuary. I received advice, spent hours talking and crying... and in time, made a choice, although I was uncertain and afraid.

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

***
Staying was one of the most difficult, and one of the most important, choices I've ever made. I could say it was because of the kids... In fact, at the time, my commitment to staying was limited. It will be eight years before both our children are in college. I reasoned that it's difficult enough to navigate through this world, without the stigma of a broken home hanging over one's head. My children, at least, would be spared the scars of battle.

I kept the first for another day, knowing I might change my mind, might regret my choice... but now, a year later, way has led to way. We have grown and changed in this journey, and I doubt if I shall ever go back.

I have chosen my path. I have taken my road, made my peace, and though the going is sometimes rough, I believe I have chosen the better path. Only time will tell for sure.

~*~*~

"But Ruth replied, "Don't urge me to leave you or to turn back from you. Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God."

-The Book of Ruth 1: 16
(NIV)

Breaking out of the victim shell

Kame is getting ready for hibernation. Being a wild-caught turtle, he doesn't understand concepts like base board hot-water heating and full-spectrum UVB lighting. He's doing what comes naturally, burrowing deep to hide from the upcoming winter.

Ever have one of those days? You know the ones... when nothing seems to go right... when the entire world seems to be against you, and all you want to do is pull yourself into your shell and hide?

I've had a year like that.

It would be easy for me to pull into the Victim shell, to build myself a fortress of self-righteous anger from which I can point my finger and blame my husband for everything that's gone wrong. I could stomp and toss my head and cry... And sometimes I do. Some days it seems as if I'll never stop crying. Self pity is an intoxicating drug, insinuating its way into my system, dulling my senses, easing the pain, and stealing my energy, strength and motivation.

And so we come to the second rule of a healthy marriage: Your sense of self-worth can not come from your partner. For too long, I looked to Ken for approval. If he came home in a bad mood, I assumed I had done something wrong. If he were unhappy, I was unhappy. If something was bothering him, I jumped to the conclusion that it was somehow connected to me, that I had done something to upset the balance of his universe.

I made it my duty to keep him happy, and when I wasn't able to keep him happy, resentment began to grow. I was working so hard for his sake, why wasn't he appreciative? Why wasn't he praising my efforts, why wasn't he loving me the way I thought I should be loved?

I was putting pressure on him, on our children, on myself, to preform the dance of a happy family the way I thought it should be choreographed, and when one of us was out of step I became angry, sullen and resentful. For Ken's part, he began to withdraw, spending more and more time away from us, pouring more and more of himself into his volunteer work, his hobbies and his job. Communication between us became more and more terse and tense. Intimacy became stilted, and I began to feel suffocated.

I can't imagine what Ken was feeling during that time. Anger? Resentment? The same stifling pressure that was stealing the very breath from my life? All of the above, I'm sure.

We were on a one-way trip to disaster, and hibernation was looking better and better every day. Thankfully, God had other plans.